Passus Satis
by domina tempore
Summary: She's trapped on one side of time, and he's on the other watching her die… Set somewhere mid series 4.


**Doctor Who:**_ Passus Satis_

_by: domina tempore_

_Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all of its characters and locations etc. belong to their respective owners. I'm just borrowing. No copyright infringement intended!_

_Summary: She's trapped on one side of time, and he's on the other watching her die… _

_Author's Note: …Alright, THIS one I have no idea why. NO IDEA. I wrote it between 5:30 and 6:30 in the morning, and I don't know why, other than the fact that I needed angst. I did read an interesting fic just before writing it, but all of the bad in that one was a dream, not like this. I am truly sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me._

_Two (quick) things. ONE: This was not intended to be romantic. I dunno if anyone will take it that way or not, but I try to clarify…_

_THING NUMBER TWO: The posting of this fic is the fault of __**x-Avarice-x**__; I wasn't going to, and then I showed I to her and she made me do it. That is all. _

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_passus satis – "suffered enough"_

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(Donna was bleeding.)

She had lost so much blood since coming to this place, this terrible planet where life was worse than death. She was used to running, not beatings; and her body succumbed far too easily to the horrors that she was forced to endure. He'd watched her, day after day as she'd grown weak and ill and afraid and alone.

(He didn't want her to be alone.)

He had listened to her screams that very first night, and then her silence ever since. She had never once called his name. Through all of the pain and torture that she had been put through, she never screamed, never wept, and never begged.

(Well, once she had; just once, on that very first night.)

He knew that she had lost hope; it had been days, and no one had come for her.

(Oh, how she must hate him for not coming!)

She thought that he had abandoned her.

(She must hate him as much as he hated himself.)

He knew that she did not understand why she had been chosen, why she was forced to go through these things. She was so pure and innocent and genuine that she often forgot just how cruel of a place the universe could be outside of Chiswick.

(He had tried so hard to protect her from that cruelty.)

He saw her heart break a thousand times on that world, as she watched other innocents tortured. From the very young to the very old, no one was spared. Day by day, he watched her watch them suffer and die by utter brutality, and he couldn't bear to watch.

(He couldn't watch any more than he could bear to look away.)

He tried to reach out to her – oh, so many times he tried. To touch her, comfort her; to let her know that she was not alone. Sometimes he tried to shield her body with his own, to block the blows that rained down on her from every quarter, brutalizing her tender body.

(How he cursed the thing that had trapped him out of sync, that caused her hands to pass through his like thin air!)

He watched her as she grew thin and worn and scarred; cursing those that turned that beautiful, fiery woman into a toy, a broken doll thrown carelessly in a corner. Crumpled limply on the ground.

(He felt no pain for himself, but his hearts broke for her.)

Her eyes grew dull, and he longed to bridge the gap between them. He wanted to take her face in his hands and kiss her eyelids, to restore the brilliant blue that had once shined from them.

(They were reduced to grey now.)

He watched as she fell to the ground instantly under the hands of her oppressors, with not even a glimmer of the will to fight them. He screamed out into the great void of a second between them, begging her to fight, to get up. Anything so that she did not die this way, as she had seen so many countless others die. She would not share their fate.

(If he could, he would take that fate for her.)

Whips tore into her, and her body spasmed and trembled; but she did not react of her own accord. She closed her eyes, closed her lips, and not a sound escaped her as she was beaten to death.

(He was the one who screamed in pain.)

With tremendous force of will, the Doctor took hold of the barrier between them, and ripped it apart for all that he was worth. He stumbled back into being between Donna and those whips, and took the lashes to his own body until they could do no more.

(He felt no pain; only burning.)

He could see that for the very first time, these oppressors were afraid. He fed on that fear, playing on it and then drawing it into himself; fueling a power that he had sworn never to use. He gathered it to himself and sent it out in a great rush, doing his best to shield Donna's fractured mind with his own as the wave tore through every living thing, obliterating those who had nearly destroyed them.

(He hated the killing, but their deaths invigorated him.)

Donna's presence behind him kept him from going too far; he could have gone forever. Instead he released the power, and gathered his best, best friend into his arms. She did not move. He whispered her name in her ear, desperate to know that she had lived; that she had not been wholly beaten by this torture. He felt her breathe.

("Spaceman" was what she called him in her head.)

He encouraged that thought. That was right, he was here; she was safe. He would never let her be hurt like this again.

(She should never have been in this position; and he still hated himself for that.)

She didn't reply, and he knew that she trusted him. Holding her close, he continued to promise, telling her all of the things he would do for her, and all of the things that he would never allow. He promised to take her someplace where there was medicine and technology, where she could be healed. He promised her that she would live.

(He desperately hoped it.)

English failed him, and he switched to his own language, the language of his homeworld. He talked until he had run out of things to say, and then he sang softly; whispered lullabies half-forgotten.

(He sang her to sleep.)

_fin._

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_A/N: Erm…so yeah. I'm not one hundred percent sure about the last line, but I'd written myself out by that point. And for once, I ended on a vaguely hopeful note, ish… Thank you for reading! _


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